


The Rabbit and The Wolf

by isklar



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood and Gore, Brotherly Affection, Gen, Genji and Hanzo as death spirits, Genji calling the shots, I'll add more if necessary, I'm not sure about the tags, Mythology - Freeform, Rabbit Genji, Spirits, Wolf Hanzo, has this been done before?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 22:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9924248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isklar/pseuds/isklar
Summary: “It runs, we must chase!” the wolf snarls, impatient and bristling.“Patience, dear brother.” The rabbit responds softly as he rises from his crouching stance, red eyes watching as the human sprints away from them.It didn’t matter how far they ran, or how fast. In the end, they would find death in one way or another.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something more fantasy/mythology related, and this is what my brain came up with. I'm still a little up in the air about this whole thing, I wrote it in a couple of hours so there are probably bound to be something wonky here and there... but bear with me, please ;A;

Separate, yet one. Two beings of the same purpose. It was how things had always been for them; two sides of the same coin. But it hadn’t always been so. Although neither of them can remember a time without the other, the other spirits recall vividly the spirit of death that became too greedy.

All living things comes to an end, something the spirit of death knew gleefully, and so it would hoard all the perished souls while using every excuse to reap more. Sick and injured people were never given time to try to recover, weak infants were never given time to get strong. Elderly people would go to bed one evening, feeling perfectly fine, only to never rise again.

The spirit of death was never satisfied, it wanted more, and at one point, the other spirits had had enough. Before death managed to destroy all life in its greed, they trapped it using their cunning and clever tricks. Death was furious, nearly tearing itself to shreds in its rage, but the spirits managed to split death apart before it destroyed itself.

Two brothers emerged in its stead. Death was now weaker, more limited, but still just as unrelenting and dogmatic. The spirits considered this a success, and as time passed, they were right. Humans still perished but death was no longer there to sweep them all in its cold embrace. The balance was finally restored.

The first brother came in the shape of a large wolf, his eyes gleaming with hatred - two yellow orbs in the midst of black, shadowy fur. He found it best to use his strong jaws and sharp canines to ensure his prey saw their end.

The second brother came in the shape of a graceful and lean rabbit. He was draped in white and red, his legs long and strong, and assuming a digitigrade form. On his back he carried a white katana, as this was his preferred way of ending someone’s lives; a quick and painless death.

They worked together to oversee their task; one brother countering the other to ensure fairness and balance. The wolf resembled the previous death all too much, but the rabbit was there to hold him back. Wherever the rabbit went, the wolf would have to follow. They couldn’t leave the other’s side, and despite the wolf’s dismay at being chained, he wouldn’t ever stray from his brother. The rabbit was too soft, too gentle, and would surely find himself in trouble if the wolf wasn’t there to watch over him.

The humans eventually gave them names; Hanzo and Genji. The names meant nothing to the brothers, but the rabbit was intrigued that humans seemed to be so aware of them - and spirits in general. Images of them were weaved, with the rabbit being the beautiful death and the wolf the grotesque and wild death.

Two sides of the same coin, separate yet one.

 

* * *

 

“It runs, we must chase!” the wolf snarls, impatient and bristling.

“Patience, dear brother.” The rabbit responds softly as he rises from his crouching stance, red eyes watching as the human sprints away from them.

It didn’t matter how far they ran, or how fast. In the end, they would find death in one way or another.

It was always easiest when they stood tall and let the rabbit look into their eyes as he unsheathed his ethereal sword. He considered this a good death, one worthy of recognition and acknowledgement; not many people would stare into the eyes of death and accept their fate with honour and dignity.

More often than not, however, they would run. The rabbit didn’t fault them for this, it was only human to try to survive.

But no one can outrun death.

The wolf liked it when they ran. He enjoyed the chase, enjoyed honing in on the human as the distance between them grew smaller by the second. No one can escape the wolf, but to see them try always spurred him on.

When the wolf was unleashed, it was never a good death. There was no honour in being hunted and tormented by the wolf, there was no dignity in the way the human would scream and beg and cry for mercy or help. No help would come, and no mercy would be granted; when a human was marked for death, death was absolute.

The wolf snaps his jaws and snarls, his sharp claws creating furrows in the soft ground beneath them. He is held back by his brother, who is always a little hesitant in unleashing him. The rabbit wishes so dearly that the human would change its mind, that it would come to its senses and stop. But they never did.

“Yes, brother. Begin your hunt.”

With his proverbial shackles undone, the wolf surges forward. He is faster than any other being, soaring forward with his shadowy paws barely touching the ground. His yellow eyes are glued to the back of the panicked human, and he can already taste the blood on his tongue. The rabbit trails behind, his two legs not making him as fast as his brother’s four paws.

The chase is over before it truly began, and the rabbit catches up just as the wolf is tearing through the captured human’s neck. Blood paints the ground all around them, the colour not too different from the rabbit’s eyes. The human is on its back, its mouth open as if it’s still trying to scream even though the wolf has long since severed the connection between mouth and lungs. The rabbit sees that there is still life in its eyes, the human still desperately trying to hold onto its fragile life even as it slips through its fingers.

Humans that attempted to run from their fate would receive no kind words from the rabbit. Instead, they would pass to the sounds and sensations of the wolf tearing at their bodies. Regret was usually an emotion that the rabbit could feel from them. They should have taken the rabbit’s sword after all.

Too little, too late.

Red eyes look away as he begins to move away from the human. He has no desire in watching his brother gorge himself on the dying human. Had the human instead faced his death before the rabbit, it would have been granted a more peaceful and graceful passing. He doesn’t move far away, however, and is content to lean against a nearby tree as he listens to the sounds behind him.

The wolf joins him soon enough, his temper and hunger sated by the chase and the blood on his maw. He ghosts across the forest floor and sticks his head under the rabbit’s hand once he’s by his side. The rabbit smiles and lets his pale fingers idly run through the wispy black fur.

“When will the next hunt be?” the wolf asks in his deep rumble, quietly basking in his brother’s affection.

“Soon,” the rabbit reassures him. “Very soon.”

Their job is never done after all; all life must come to an end. Although death no longer assumes one form, and although death no longer hoards the perished souls, it’s still their task to seek out those that attempt to add more sand to their expiring hourglass.


End file.
